


Streetlights

by Knyght



Category: Free!
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Support, Survival, tag more later - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-09-15
Packaged: 2018-12-03 23:56:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11543112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knyght/pseuds/Knyght
Summary: After three months of sleeping rough, Nagisa Hazuki's hopes of meeting someone he can connect with are wearing thin, as it seems as though everyone he passes either pities or resents him.When Nagisa meets Rei Ryugazaki, a new soul to the streets with an already damaged expectation, a world of opportunities opens up to him. What better way to get to know a person than by spending all your time with them?Life isn't always simple, however, and life on the streets proves to have much more in store for them than they could have ever expected.





	1. Friday Night

Shuffling. Rustling. Noises of restlessness. Nagisa’s ears pick up on the disturbances, stirring him from his already unsettled sleep.

_What time is it…?_

It must be around midnight, since the clubs are still open. The heavy pounding of whatever remix is on hurts his head, as it always does, but this cramped and reeking alleyway is the only one in the area that provides shelter from the heavy rain he has been suffering through today.

Nagisa must have been nestled here for around two hours now. Everyone in this area of the town has to be settled by ten at the latest; walking through crowds of drunk clubbers and party-goers is dangerous at best. Nagisa would know.

That being said, the noise that’s emitting from somewhere next to him surely isn’t human. A human in his position should know better than to be wandering around at this time. Perhaps it’s a cat, maybe even a stray dog rummaging for scraps. The issue Nagisa’s having with these theories, however, is the fact that he can hear coughing. _Human_ coughing.

Nagisa forces himself to open his eyes against the desperate pleas of his sleep deprived and aching body. He needs to defend himself, protect his belongings from the possible threat near him.

Carefully, so not to startle or shock the trespasser, he adjusts the angle of his head in order to assess his surroundings. What he is met with is a long limbed and dishevelled man, carrying a damaged sleeping bag and sporting a painful looking bloody nose. Through the darkness, Nagisa can see that he has glasses resting delicately against the bruised skin, and from the way that the light from the streetlamps glisten off the lens, he knows the left one is cracked. This man has been in a fight, not one that he was able to win either.

Even though Nagisa believes this man could not hurt him (he makes this decision based on the man’s looks that he would lack the street smarts and the dedication to throw a punch, coming to the conclusion that he looks like one of _those_ sort) but the fact that his injuries are recent means that Nagisa could possibly end up the victim of a verbal assault, something he would much rather avoid. Immediately, Nagisa is alert. He remains in his sleeping bag, but the hazy layer of sleep previously inhibiting him has abruptly dissolved, leaving him with eyes like a hawk and hearing like a bat. Nagisa’s been in too much trouble in the past to ignore the signs of a potential threat now.

However serious he may interpret the situation to be, the man is either choosing to ignore Nagisa or just hasn’t been made aware of his presence yet. He drops his sleeping back to the floor with little grace and pushes his sopping wet hair back out of his face. He looks exhausted.

Nagisa doesn’t say a word; he doesn’t know this man – can’t trust him – and therefore he remains silent, allowing the rumbling bass to be the only noise hanging between them.

It’s barely a minute before he has to speak up, for fear of the man’s – albeit long term – safety.

“Don’t.”

The stranger freezes at the sounds of the harsh and gruff voice, rough from days of misuse. One foot is inside the sleeping back while the other is still inside his shoe, loosely.

Nagisa tries to speak again, wetting his chapped lips. “Don’t get into your sleeping bag, I mean. It’s a bad idea.”

He cringes at the implications of a threat, and the man seems to recognise it too. The corners of his lips pull up into a grimace as his eyes shift for a place to rest his gaze – anywhere but Nagisa. He’s seen this look plenty of times before. It’s the exact look that everyone who accidentally meets his eyes in the street: a polite grimace curls up the corner of their mouths, their eyes wrinkle with the effort of a smile and their noses crinkle up in shock of being caught looking.

In this scenario, it looks as if Nagisa has to be assertive, “Use the sleeping bag like a blanket instead. When you’re asleep and vulnerable, who knows what people will do.”

This catches the man’s attention, he turns with wide eyes to Nagisa and it’s clear to see that he’s a little panicked. He’s already been injured, the prospect of more damage obviously isn’t choice.

Trying to backtrack, Nagisa changes his tactic, “I mean- I doubt that anyone will hurt us if there is more than two in the same place, but it’s always good to be safe.”

The man seems unconvinced, forcing Nagisa to drag himself into a sitting position and to expose himself to the freezing night air. Nagisa rummages through one of his bags as he shivers, trying to fix the damage with a peace offering, “I’ve got this spare. It’s a little worn but I promise it’s clean.”

He extends the blanket out to the man, cheeks burning at his own perception of himself. He has forgotten at which point he felt the need to assure people that the things he touches aren’t dirty, which moment in time acted as the turning point for his insecurity?

Even with the offering, the man doesn’t take it. Whether he’s overwhelmed or just stubborn, Nagisa doesn’t know, but the feeling of rejection still stings him. With a huff of indignation, Nagisa throws the blanket at the stranger’s feet before throwing himself back down onto his makeshift pillow.

_If he’s going to be like that, then fine. He can be like that. It’s not like I was trying to help or anything._

Whatever the man does next, Nagisa vows - for the mental safety of himself - he won’t get emotionally or physically involved. This promise proves difficult to uphold when, merely minutes later, the sound of pounding music is punctuated with the soft and muffled noises of a person trying to disguise their sobs using a thin, worn blanket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is always welcome, and I have a good feeling about my dedication this time. I have to warn you though, it takes me a pretty long time to get my shit together for later chapters, so buckle up! It may be a long wait. You can always boot me up the backside at knyght-writes.tumblr.com which is my completely new blog solely for writing, Free! and my other interests. Don't be surprised if you show up and it's bare (no profile pic or anything, gotta get on that). I've just made it, but I promise I'm active on it!
> 
> Chapters may vary in length, but will probably stay around the 1,000 word area, and sorry for the lack of the name "Rei" in this chapter. You'll see more of that in future, I promise!
> 
> Fixed an issue where I accidentally posted this twice, one of which was an earlier version. All sorted now!
> 
> Thank you again for reading! See you soon!


	2. Saturday Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the start of a new day and, for once, things might just be looking up.

The mornings are always quiet.

Except on Saturdays.

Saturdays are _hell_.

“Yeah. I know! He always gets so pissy when it gets to money.”

Nagisa forces his heavy eyelids open, blinking away the sleep and the sensitivity to light. The unfamiliar man talking must be around three meters away, resting against the wall facing onto the main highstreet. Chances are he noticed Nagisa sleeping in this alley.

Chances are he didn’t care.

“Sorry, you’re breaking up. What did you say?”

Finally it dawns on Nagisa that there isn’t someone else that he’s talking to in person, it’s a phone conversation.

“Oh, yeah. It was rent money… Yeah, yeah about a hundred- what? No I told you, I haven’t paid him back. Why? He can live without it, can’t he?”

Nagisa lets a groan bubble up in the back of his throat. With that amount of money, he could probably afford a week in a half decent shelter. Selfish bastard.

The phone call continues, but becomes background noise to Nagisa. Instead, he focuses his attention on forcing himself up into a sitting position, back against the wall. This task proves to be difficult; his body aches to be back under the covers, shielded from the harsh morning air. He has to keep moving though. Rest equals waste; crowds equal cash.

On the other side of the alley, the man is still there.

His breath rises from his parted lips in slow, twisting puffs and Nagisa can’t help but become enraptured. It has been a long time since he has felt this close to another living, breathing, human being. In this single moment, Nagisa forgets about his duties – and his grudge against the man - and focuses on details he’d never consciously search out, his perspective confines itself to the cramped alleyway shared by these two freezing bodies, noses both red and lips similarly chapped by the constant and sharp wind. They’re experiencing the same thing – biologically, at least – and surely that means something. Surely a connection has been found, even if it’s only recognised by one party, even if it’s temporary – fleeting, even.

As if on cue, the moment ends. He can hear crowds begin to gather that he can’t afford to miss.

With a heaving sigh, Nagisa rests his head back against the wall. It feels like such a shame to wake him, but leaving him all alone - after what he assumes is his first night on the streets - seems a little too harsh. “Hey,” he croaks, throat dry and voice cracking, “we need to leave.”

The man stirs slowly, stretching out as far as the alleyway will let him. Nagisa watches as he shudders at the realisation of how cold it is.

“Come on, when we move we’ll warm up.”

They both fall into another silence as they clamber out of their sleeping bags and begin to pack. Nagisa glances over at the man, watching him struggle to find a place for everything.

“You got a rucksack, don’t you?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Put your blanket rolled up into it.”  
“Okay”  
“Clip your sleeping bag under it.”  
“Right.”

Nagisa watches the man with tired eyes. It’s been so long since he’s had a decent conversation with someone and it doesn’t seem that this is the riveting dialogue he is looking for. He crushes up a carrier bag, shoves it deep into another one and bundles all of them up together to tuck into the front pocket of his rucksack.

It was a good buy, the rucksack. Nagisa takes a moment to praise himself for his purchase of the strikingly blue hiking bag, although he never expected to be carrying around all of his belongings in it.

It doesn’t take long to ensure that his sleeping bag and two carrier bags are safely secured before he allows himself to help the man finish packing, crouching by his side to aid the closure of a brimming pocket.

“It gets easier with time.”

Nagisa whispers the words of advice - and therefore knows full well that he’s talking about packing his bag efficiently rather than life on the streets altogether - and yet he still can’t shake the feeling that he’s lying to this man, lulling him into a false sense of security.

It doesn’t matter what advice Nagisa offers, he’s still met with the same dead silence as before.

_Whatever._

With an air of finality, he decides to leave it – to leave him. There’s no point wasting time and effort on someone who doesn’t want it. Nagisa heaves a sigh and rocks back onto his heels, resting in a squatting position before forcing himself up in one go. Momentum is everything when your body is stiff from the cold. He slings his bag over his aching shoulders, secures the two carrier bags around his wrists and lumbers out onto the busy street in search of an available patch of pavement to claim – preferably in the sun.

Everyone looks at Nagisa. For a small man, pedestrians give him a much wider berth than needed. He can feel eyes bore into him from every angle. Maybe some people are trying to figure out how he got where he is today. Was it gambling? Misuse of money on drugs and alcohol? They can try and guess, but it’s none of their business.

_Resilience is needed when you’re out here; if don’t have it before, you’ll certainly have it soon enough._

Nagisa always likes to believe that started resilient and only became stronger, but when he looks up and all those eyes on him scatter to more interesting pavement cracks, he can feel everything in him slump. The feeling it brings him will always sting.

It doesn’t take too long for Nagisa to drag up another wall of resistance, however, as he instead decides to focus on the space people are giving him. Today, the crowd seems to be parting, as usual, but it feels like they don’t gather again behind him straight away, as if he’s dragging something along that people want to avoid. So, with a frown of confusion, Nagisa glances over his shoulder to be met with the same man from before, nervously fiddling with the hem of his dull green parka.

“I’m- I’m very sorry. I have nowhere to go and you seemed friendly towards me. May I join you?”

Nagisa stares at him, jaw hanging open. From his previous behaviour, Nagisa expected him to speak gruffly or rudely rather than rapidly and panicked. It was as if the scrawny man in front of him was instead a terrifying teacher who was adamantly demanding an answer as to why he’d forgotten his homework. 

“My name is Rei. I thought-” He pauses to scratch the back of his head and Nagisa can see that he’s shaking, “It’s polite to start with an introduction. Right? Especially if there is the possibility of spending a lot of time together.”

Nagisa manages to nod his head, slowly recovering from the shock and the _thrill_ of conversation. Even though Nagisa's grudge against the man is still present, the idea that he won't be alone - that he'll have someone at his side after so long - makes him feel giddy with excitement. He finally pieces together a response, tongue fumbling over the words, “I’d love to have someone along.”

The smile Rei gives Nagisa is the most genuine one he’s seen for months, yet it’s laced with something deeper. Something Nagisa’s all too familiar with yet can’t put a word to.

“Thank you so much…” He pauses, allowing Nagisa a chance to introduce himself too.  
“Nagisa.”  
“Nagisa.” Rei repeats his name slowly, and his smile becomes softer.

Warmer.

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter up and I'm looking to getting the third up within the next couple of weeks, hopefully. If there is any delay, I apologise in advance!
> 
> Once again, you can check out my (still incomplete) blog at knyght-writes.tumblr.com. I swear I will actually get some content on there at some point!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Detour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you make changes for people.
> 
> Sometimes it takes a while for them to see that.

“Stupid taps never work properly.” Nagisa mutters under his breath as he waits for the hand drier to finish its cycle before he can try again. “Why not just have one button for the soap, one for the water and one for the air? It’s stupid to make them all go in order.”

Rei watches him from the lid of the toilet seat, tissue held up to his bleeding nose. It started bleeding again shortly after they began moving – it was at that point that Nagisa knew they’d need to take a detour to one of the public restrooms before settling down on the pavement somewhere. A quick glance over at him confirms that Rei does not share his unnecessary hate for the three-in-one hand washing stations.

“I’ve always hated these shitty machines, but the council doesn’t want to waste more money on getting them changed. I swear they’re to dissuade people like us from using them.”

He tries again, pressing the button and waiting for the soap to dispense before holding his plastic cup under the warm water. It’s slow, thankfully, and gives him time to mull over his current situation. Conversations with Rei have all but dried up with each attempt he’s made, it’s as if he doesn’t want to speak at all. Of course, Nagisa knows the feeling. It’s probably embarrassment, maybe a mix of anger too. Distantly, Nagisa’s mind drifts to attempts he could make to break Rei’s walls down – all of which wouldn’t work, things like that need to happen naturally-

The whir of the hand dryer drags Nagisa out of his daydream and he tries to whip his hand back as fast as possible – a second too late.

“Shit!” He curses as the water sloshes out of the cup and onto his jeans. “Damn it…”

“Again?” Rei comments with a hint of impatience in his voice. Nagisa has to bite his tongue to keep himself from snapping. Cautiously – and with a deep breath – he turns to Rei, planning his words carefully.

“I’m tired. My reaction times are slow and the machines are stupid anyway. Now move your hand, this’ll just have to do.”

Rei, as if realising his rudeness, drops his eyes to the floor and removes the tissue from his nose. Even though Nagisa accepts the silent apology, he’s still on edge, especially since Rei’s bowed position forces him to crouch down in order to be able to reach his face.

“Looks sore.” Nagisa comments as a low monotone grumble as he swipes at the dried blood with the warm water.

“It is. Please take care when you- ” Rei cuts off and grimaces sharply, pulling back. Nagisa winces as if he can feel the pain and freezes where he is.

“Sorry, I’ll be more careful. Do you think it’s broken?”

All past courtesy is disregarded in that single second; Rei’s eyes widen and he rises sharply, hands covering his nose to shield himself from the view of his possibly crooked nose. The abruptness of his movement topples Nagisa backwards, knocking his plastic cup over and spilling the water.

“Fuck! Rei--!”

Rei ignores him, moving closer to the mirror and frantically feeling for any unnatural bumps.

“Is it noticeable? It’s swollen but do you think it’ll be crooked? Do you know how to set a broken nose?”

Nagisa, shocked and angered by his vanity and disregard, pulls his knees to his chest and covers his face with the intention of calming himself down. Rei doesn’t seem to notice.

“Nagisa? Nagisa, are you listening--?”

Anger boils through his blood, making his pulse race and pushing him to breaking point. Through clenched teeth and the gap in his crossed arms, he blurts out his racing thoughts, “No. I’ve _stopped_ listening. I’ve stopped _caring_ too. Why should I bother when _you_ care about nothing but _yourself_?”

His sharp rant causes Rei to fall silent, leaving no sound behind other than the blood rushing through Nagisa’s ears.

Drawn out seconds pass, ones where Nagisa notices that the spilt water has soaked its way into his bag. He wonders distantly if he should be the first one to break the silence-

“I’m so sorry.”

_No need_ , he supposes with a hint of bitterness.

“I really am, Nagisa. I promise, I genuinely mean it.”

Nagisa doesn’t look at him, but hears the rustle of fabric and feels Rei crouch down next to him. He doesn’t dare move.

“I’ve been awful. I’ve been incredibly rude to you and inconceivably inconsiderate also. Both in my introduction to yourself, and now – of course.”

Nagisa shakes his head once, more like a twitch than anything else, “I didn’t care about last night. I understand what it’s like to be on the streets for your first night, but _now_ \--?”

“I know, I know. I have no excuse.”  
“No, it’s- I mean it’s perfectly reasonable to be stressed and upset but--”  
“But to take it out on you is… I know. Let me clean things up and then we’ll… start over?”

Nagisa forces himself to meet Rei’s eyes, noting the sincerity and the desperation hidden within. Rei needs this companionship as much as he does, dropping a possible blessing just because of a miscommunication at the start could be the biggest regret he has.

_No pain no gain, you can’t make an omelette without breaking a couple of eggs or… whatever,_ Nagisa reasons with himself silently, eyes locked with Rei’s. Slowly, he nods and watches the relief flood back into Rei’s features. His pursed lips soften and his shoulders slump, although signs of tension and upset still remains.

Nagisa offers him a weak smile, hoping to ease any more of his stress, “I don’t think you’ll have to clean up, it is a public toilet after all.”

The line works and Rei cracks a smile, chuckling softly before pushing himself up to standing. “I suppose so, but your bag--”

“I can dry it out once we’re outside. Don’t worry about it.” Nagisa pushes himself back to crouching with some struggle – his joints ache with misuse and strain – and lifts his head to talk to Rei, only to be met by his outstretched hand instead. Gratefully, Nagisa clasps it and pulls himself up.

“Are you okay?” Rei asks softly and Nagisa can’t help but feel relieved – if a little selfish – that he is being shown concern.

“I’ve just got a lot of aches and pains.” Nagisa shrugs passively, dropping his hand and turning to his bag, “Part and parcel, isn’t it?”

Nagisa can practically feel Rei’s scepticism, but thankfully he doesn’t push Nagisa’s subject further. Instead, he turns to ease his own worries. “Does it- does it always feel like this?”

“Feel like what?” Nagisa slings his bag over his shoulder and turns to see Rei holding a hand over his chest.

“Like- I can’t explain it. Right here. Like, a feeling rather than a physical pain.”

Nagisa’s stomach sinks. He knows the exact feeling. “Yeah. That- that doesn’t go. Not yet anyway.”

“How long have you been out here?”  
“Three months.”

Rei inhales sharply through his teeth, eyes catching Nagisa’s.

“Four in a week.”  
“Were you… alone? For that whole time?” The concern in Rei’s eyes is clear and sharp, yet comforting to Nagisa.

“Not- not _all_ of it--”  
“Oh Nagisa…” Rei breathes the words like a sigh, the concern fades into pity, clear in every syllable.

Pity. _Again_.

Nagisa doesn’t want _pity_. He wants _empathy_. He wants someone to understand.

He turns, grabbing his carrier bags off the floor and making for the door, “We need to leave. I have no cash and I do want to eat at least _one_ meal today.”

The sharp turn in conversation leaves Rei silent for a moment; Nagisa would have stopped if it wasn’t for the noise of him frantically gathering his bags to keep up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter up! Much more chatting in this one.
> 
> I don't think there will be another one for quite some time but I will be trying my best and I definitely won't be giving up! Even though there might not be another chapter, I'm still available to talk to at knyght-writes.tumblr.com or at my main blog which I will link on my writing blog (I'm much more active on my main, but I'm aiming to be more active on both!).
> 
> Hope you enjoy, feedback is appreciated and I'll see you all later!


End file.
